


A Maiden's Blush Stanza

by Dango_p0i



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Crisis Core: Final Fantasy VII
Genre: Angst, But it's Got Those Gay Undertones, Canonical Character Death, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Gengeal If You Squint, Regret
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:33:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28547937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dango_p0i/pseuds/Dango_p0i
Summary: Sorrow, grief. Regret. It lingered in Genesis whenever he remembered those sweet memories, when everything was easier, whenhewas still with him, in the forest, without a care in the world.Things weren't as joyful anymore.
Kudos: 3





	A Maiden's Blush Stanza

A loud _THUMP_ echoed through the void of nothing but Banora white trees, the curved plethora of large vegetation curling itself over the two youths that tumbled on the ground after successfully fulfilling the mission they set upon themselves like a tunnel, sun ray shimmers of light seeping through the holes in the ceiling. Said mission consisted of the sweet goods Banora’s agriculture could call its very own. Dripping with the moisture of the pouring rain that occurred just mere hours ago, three dumbapples that the boy managed to shake down as he fell off his friends shoulders, reflexively trying to hold onto a branch, lay on the ground. A fourth followed, unable to hold on any longer from the aftermath of the branch’s rattling and frantic flapping, hitting the auburnet boy right on the head just as he managed to sit up, effectively knocking him down on his back again. Mother nature’s force, huh?

“Genesis?”

Genesis groaned, rubbing his head, jaded eyes pinched shut while the back of his clothes soaked themselves full with dirt and grime, the path all muddy from the aforementioned rainstorm. “You okay?” Angeal asked, one hand on his bent knees while the other was stretched out toward him, held out as an offer to get back on his feet.

He took the hand, “Yeah.”, pulled back onto the soles of his expensive shoes drenched in the same filth that his backside was. Great, mother and father would be delighted. Paled porcelain palms quickly changed their milky white exterior to a dark muddy one as Genesis tried to get some of the path he’d be taking home that day back on the ground where it belonged, primarily attempting to wipe it off his back, then going to combing his dirty fingers through his hair, but to no avail. He only made it worse, really.

The boy sighed in annoyance, the emotion quickly replaced with hunger taking over when his friend held out one of the deep violet fruits, almost looking like an oversized plum disguised as an apple. He smiled, wiping a hand on his shorts (not that it made much of a difference anymore) before taking the fruit offered up to him. “Thanks.” Genesis said, simply receiving a shake of a head from Angeal who held the remaining three apples piled in his left arm close to his chest, subtracting it by one that was taken in his right hand to join his companion in their well deserved, shared meal.

“We should start heading back, my mom is probably already done preparing dinner…” Angeal muttered, taking a bite of the dumbapple in his hand. A satisfying chorus of crunching filled the air, paired with the footsteps of the two friends as Genesis agreed with the proposal of walking home in form of a nod.

It always felt weirdly magical to walk through this part of the forest. Scary when you’re alone, especially when the sun sets and wraps their part of the world into darkness, but adventurous when you’re with someone else. “You sure you didn’t hit your head?”, Angeal suddenly ripped him out of his thoughts with a teasing undertone layered in his voice, “Huh?” The ravenet boy chuckled, shaking his head, “You’re so quiet since you fell off my shoulders. Is it the clothes?”

Genesis just huffed, though with an amused twitch of his shoulders. “My friend, your desire…”

And so he began. LOVELESS, the thing that made up about 60% of Genesis’ vocabulary. It was almost like a routine for him to recite it on a daily basis and, scattered across each 24 hours, he probably said the whole poem about five times a day.

“…Is the bringer of life, the gift of the Goddess…”

Not that Angeal minded, really. He wasn’t one to call others out on their quirks. As long as nobody commented on his tendency to make a bit too intense eye contact or the fact that he holds pens with the end hitting his knuckle instead of the crook between his thumb and index finger, there was no reason to point out nail biting, hair twirling, head scratching. Poetry reciting.

“…Even if the morrow is barren of promises…”

“…Nothing shall delay my return.”

“Forestall. My return.”, Genesis corrected. Angeal took another big bite of his dumbapple. His previous question was entirely disregarded, but out of the poetic words, he read a simple ‘No, it’s fine. No need to worry and make our parents wait even longer’, but it wouldn’t be Genesis if his words wouldn’t be packaged in a parcel that had three layers of the prettiest flex tape on the market. 

“Hm. I still don’t understand what you like so much about that poem.” Angeal broke the short span of silence between him and his friend with a muffled voice, going back to chewing on the pleasantly sweet whitish flesh in his mouth. “Hmph.”, Genesis scoffed. He took a big step which turned into a heel turn, forcing Angeal to stop dead in his tracks to not bump into the pale figure that suddenly stood before him. Genesis threw the not-edible remains of the fruit he ate into the grass that framed the muddy pathway, an unreadable expression on his face as a deep jade stared into confused hazel.

Then he grabbed one of the dumbapples Angeal was carrying before running off, echos of laughter resonating against the trees that bowed down around and above them. “Come on slowpoke, last to arrive has to treat the winner for dumbapple juice!”, the auburn haired boy yelled over his shoulder, still running, not stopping to keep things fair. “Whaー?! Hey!” Angeal protested, going through annoyance, defeat and acceptance all in a mere second before starting to chase after the his smug dumbapple-thievery accomplice with a smile.

***

He stood under the three, the one with the small, wooden cross underneath it, stuck into the ground right before his feet. He put it there.

“My friend… the fates are cruel.”

Genesis knelt down, fingertips engulfed by red leather touching the makeshift faux-grave, no desecrator of such able to retrieve anything of value underneath the amateur craft of two wooden planks, rotting away with time, going mold. Just like him, almost. His other hand loosely dangled down from the leg that remained propped up, holding the fruit of their youth, the sweet, amethyst memoirs of a dear friend.

“There are no dreams, no honor remains.”

The dumbapple was placed in front of the cross, freshly plucked, a raindrop running down from it, shimmering with the moonlight like a full sea of dreams, of honor, being proof of it. Genesis lowered his head until his forehead gently rested against the calloused cortex. It was cold, all feelings and emotions frozen shut, hid behind a wall of metaphorical icicles to impale him with guilt, with shame, even more. His lips thinned, fingers digging into the dirt, though his mako-merged eyes contrasted the frustration, conquering it with nothing but a hollow void. His muscles tensed involuntarily, shoulders stiff and his eyebrows furrowed.

A familiar breeze swept by. A warm touch in a cold night, like a pure, white feather, wildly whirling his hair and coat around. His deep blue, jade tinged eyes hooded their gaze before fluttering shut completely. He laughed breathlessly.

“You never _had_ to understand it.”


End file.
